


Casualties Of War

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Asgardian Mythology, Avengers - Freeform, Drama, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Infinity War, Maria Hill is a BAMF, Romance, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s better this way. Anything between them could only ever be a casualty of the events and people that need them more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casualties Of War

**Author's Note:**

> For the Maria Hill Comment Fic Fest ([Livejournal](http://tielan.livejournal.com/898869.html) | [Dreamwidth](http://tielan.dreamwidth.org/905096.html)), to the prompt " _Maria/Steve or gen, the casualties of war haven't changed us much at all_ ".

“I hate to be the Debbie Downer in all this,” Sam remarks over the comms as another wave of Infinites soars through the dark mouth of the Rift, “But the odds aren’t looking good.”

“The odds suck,” says Stark, bluntly. “If you have a retreat option, Rogers, now’s the time to bring it up.”

“We have no retreat options,” Steve says as he hurls the shield, and it’s not just to Stark that he’s speaking. “Wherever we go, they’ll just find us. The Avengers are the only thing standing between them and this universe and we aren’t going to stop.”

Bucky catches the shield on the rebound, uses it to slam two more Infinites down before tossing it back at Steve, by way of a third Infinite’s skull. The vibranium of T’Challa’s claws gleam as he slices and dices bodies with an athletic grace that matches Natasha’s brutal elegance. Meanwhile, up in the sky, Sam and Stark and Thor and Vision fight as weapons on the wing, while Barton and Wanda are a fixed point, firing.

Bitterness washes out his mouth, the stain of failure.

There are others – the Second String Avengers, Sam joked – fighting the Infinites further afield, using whatever abilities and gifts they have. And there are Air Force units mobilised under the command of Rhodey and Colonel Danvers, but the goal of Steve’s group was to reach the Rift and find a way to close it.

With barely five hundred yards to go, now it’s all they can do to keep themselves from being overrun by Infinites.

It’s not going to be enough.

“I’m just putting the option out there,” says Stark, blunt as ever. “I know it goes against your moral code, but he who lives to run away—”

“We cannot run.” T’Challa says, disembowelling an Infinite before shredding the throat of another. “The seer said this battle would be decided ‘ _in the First Fall_ ’.”

“Seers aside,” Nat notes, using an Infinite’s weapon against it before using it against four others coming to take its place. “We’re kind of stuck here. No way out.”

“Yeah, well, breaking news: we’re taking hits faster than we can recoup.” Clint’s voice sounds cocky as ever, even through the communications. “And that’s assuming we’re recouping, which we’re not.”

There’s a noise like a rumble of thunder in the air – only it’s not the air that trembles.

With his arm in the shield, prepared for another throw, it takes Steve a moment to realise what he’s feeling – a tremble in the vibranium itself, unheard of.

“What the hell?” Bucky is staring at the arm the Wakandans made for him – no longer the clumsy brutal limb of the Winter Soldier, but still made of vibranium. So it’s not just Steve. 

Similarly, T’Challa has lifted his head to the sky. “Something comes.”

Thor’s roar crackles through their comms. “Those of you airborne; land  _now_ !” And he drops like a stone, his cloak flagging above him in a move that sends a sudden shaft of fear into Steve’s heart. Because Thor is indestructible – or nearly – and anything that could bring him down is to be feared.

“Thor, care to read us in?”

“Something old has been roused. Older than my forefathers and far more powerful.”

“So, we’re talking pretty ancient?” Across the battlefield, Stark lands by Thor, and a moment later Vision and Sam touch down, too. Barton and Wanda are still airborne, though, and the world is shaking like a leaf—

There’s a sudden searing flash in the sky, so bright it leaves images on the backs of their eyelids. The crack of the sonic boom that accompanies it should split their eardrums and leave them bleeding, but Steve only registers a momentary ache before it fades. He opens his eyes, instinctively squinting in the direction of the flash.

“What the hell?” Barton notes over the comm, and the momentary relief of knowing that he and Wanda survived is swamped in something between terror and awe. “Or maybe that should be what the _heaven_?”

In the sky hovers a winged, helmed figure, holding a slim staff in her bare hands amidst the falling bodies of the flying Infinites who got caught in the shockwave of her entry.

Steve is almost certain it’s a her. It’s hard to tell.

The staff is glowing – or, that’s not the right word for it. The staff makes everything around it look  _dull_ – save for Mjolnir, which gleams like moonlight on a dark night.

“The _Freyrstav_ ,” Vision says, and his voice holds a note of awe Steve’s never heard before. “If Mjolnir is the symbol of Asgard’s power, the _Freyrstav_ is the symbol of Asgard’s prosperity.”

Thor lifts his Hammer to the sky, “And is as to Mjolnir as a man in his prime is to a child.” A coil of light twists its way between the staff and the hammer, lightning twining together like lovers.

“So this would be the Queen of the universe, then?” Stark asks interestedly. “You never introduced us. And you with Doc Foster on the side, Thor? You dog!”

“What _I_ want to know is whose side she’s on,” Clint retorts, practical and droll.

“I’m for Earth’s side, of course,” comes the reply, cool and casual and brisk as if she’s giving a report. “As though there was any doubt.”

And Steve’s heart leaps in his chest at the sound of her voice, slamming against his ribcage as though it could fly to her—

_She doesn’t want you, remember?_

There’s a moment of stunned silence. 

“Goddamn,” Sam says over the comms, his voice suddenly grinning bright. “Good to see you, Maria!”

“Well, Hill,” says Tony, taken aback for only a moment. “Nice to see you remembered the home team.”

“Nice to see you and Rogers put your dick fencing away in the name of Earth’s safety,” is her uncompromising reply. “Although you’re doing a decidedly sub-par job right now. There’s a new wave just coming through—”

The staff in her hand flashes again, and in the air around her, several dozen warriors blink into existence, winged and helmed, and most definitely female. They immediately begin to engage the squad of Infinites just emerging from the Rift, even as the Infinites on the battlefield around begin to rouse from what looks to be a kind of stupor.

“Useful,” Bucky notes, and punches an Infinite in the face, wading back into the battle.

“The _Freyrstav_ is more than merely useful,” Vision says as he rises into the air, a bright beam of light emitting from the stone in his forehead. “It holds the infinite creative capability of the universe; inspiration, anchor, and rebirth.”

“Unfortunately,” Maria says briskly, “I haven’t gotten to the rebirth part of the manual yet.”

“Did you even get past the bit about making yourself wings?” Natasha inquires. 

The laugh is sharp and sudden, unexpected in the midst of their situation and warm as a hand down his spine. “A woman’s allowed a few fantasies, Nat.”

The familiarity warms and inspires. It’s her. Steve lets his body fall back into the flow of the fight, even as his mind recalculates the situation, and his heart batters his ribcage in a rhythm that has less to do with the fight than the knowledge that she’s here.

“Now that you’re here, we could use a little help getting to the Rift.” He’s relieved to hear that his voice sounds mostly normal. Although, maybe not quite so much considering Bucky gives him a look as he punches an Infinite in the face, then tosses the next one heels over head.

“We might have gotten a little caught up in things,” Natasha says. “But the plan was to get to the Rift, shut it down.”

“I’ll deal with the Rift, Avengers. You deal with the Infinites.”

Something in the tenor of her voice fills him with dread. “Maria...”

“Can’t let you have all the heroic moments, Cap.” But beneath the lightness of the quip, he can hear the steel of her intentions and it slices him like a knife.

The  _Freyrstav_ marks her position as she draws nearer and nearer to the Rift. She seems to be using the weapon as one part quarterstaff, one part ray-gun, and while he can’t keep an eye on her position constantly, he can see that she’s moving through the air like she was born to it.

“Where’d she learn to fly like that?” Bucky wonders as she evades a set of shots that should have taken out her wings.

“I read a manual.” She levels the staff at the Infinites and a moment later bodies fly like she tossed a handgrenade into their midst. “Barton, I’m going in. Cover me.”

“Copy that.”

Steve drags his arm across his forehead in a pause between the waves of Infinites and takes in the battlefield at a glance. Thor and Vision are blasting the Infinites from the sky, while Sam and Stark dart in and out of the squadrons in a complicated dance of dodges and shots that somehow works. Beyond them, the flying women –  _Valkyries_ , his brain decides – are working as a fluid team, circling, never overlapping, bringing down their prey by the dozen and two-dozen. Barton is back up high again, practically perched at Wanda’s shoulder, trusting her telekinesis to keep them both up as he fires and fires and fires, partially clearing a way for Maria to break through.

Further along the line, he can see Parker and Lang working together out on the battlefield, while the sharp flashes of gunfire indicate where the human military have set their stance.

And the woman who holds the power to create or destroy the universe fights her way through another squadron of Infinites, the glowing  _Freyrstav_ in her hands like a beacon.

“You want to go in with her.” Bucky sounds exasperated. “Jesus, Steve.”

“It’s a mistake.” Natasha is adjusting something on the weapon she’s holding, then turns and levels it at two Infinites that are struggling to get up. The blast splits between them, knocking them both dead. “If you couldn’t stop her when she set her mind to it before; you’re not going to manage it now.”

“I don’t want to stop her,” he tells them.

“So it is true then.” There’s no expression in the Black Panther’s mask, but Steve can hear the understanding in T’Challa’s voice. “You are a terrible liar, and you love this woman.”

Bucky and Natasha nearly choke on their laughter. Steve regards them with exasperation and more than a little embarrassment. “Funny, guys. I need a path to the Rift. Will you help?”

“Sure.” Natasha’s still grinning. 

So’s Bucky. “You really need to ask?”

Meanwhile, T’Challa tilts his head. “If you stand in her way, then you are no fit mate for her.”

Steve grips the shield in his hand and starts off in the direction of the Rift. “I’m no fit mate for her in any case.”

It’s a grim and stinging truth; he might have melted her ice if he’d tried when he’d first realised the tug in his belly was leading him towards the one woman Natasha never tried to throw at him. It only took him a week to realise that the ice was esssential to who Maria was and who she wanted to be – melting it would leave her defenceless against the cruelties of a world where a woman was defined by the man she was said to be fucking.

Even Sharon had found it frustrating at the end, the label of ‘Captain America’s girlfriend’ cutting down her ambitions with brutal efficacy. They’d parted with as much grace as he could expect from a woman who’d had to bear the burden of always being considered his plus-one.

Now, as he fights his way to the base of the ridge where the Rift sits, Steve has learned what he is and what he can’t have. He can defend, and he can protect, but he can’t have love – not with a woman who can awe and terrify him both.

Not with the woman whose shadow flits across the ground before she makes a gesture in the air that leaps lightning through the head of every Infinite in their vicinity, jerking them like puppets on strings before they fall.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” Nat asks as Maria drops to the ground in a flurry of wings and a soft, musty aroma that must be the scent of feathers.

She cut her hair at some point –  _man-short_ , Steve thinks, before he corrects it to  _pixie cut_ – and she’s wearing what looks like her old S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, and black heeled boots.

“I’m still learning how to use this thing,” Maria retorts, brandishing the _Freyrstav_. “It didn’t exactly get passed down to me through generations.”

This close, the infinite creative capability of the universe looks like nothing more than a smooth and polished piece of wood, about the length and width of a walking stick, with a lower tip that looks wickedly pointed and an irregular bulb at the upper tip, a little smaller than one of the Hulk’s fists.

Less ordinary are the runes that bite into the wood in shimmering, writhing letters of flame.

“Questions of how you got hold of an ancient Asgardian weapon aside...” Natasha draws close enough to reach out one hand and draw her knuckles along the edge of the primaries. “Nice. Nicer than Wilson’s.”

“I resemble that remark.” Sam drops to the ground and his wings fold in. “But mine are cooler.”

Maria rolls her eyes and the wings vanish, like they never were.

“Or not.”

“So you can just...make things up as you like?” Bucky says from beside Steve, who has a mouth and a heart full of words and can’t find any of them that might make sense or at least not make a fool of him.

“Within reason.”

“And yet you still chose to wear that awful S.H.I.E.L.D uniform?” Tony makes tutting noises over the comms. “Did Pepper teach you nothing about fashion?”

She ignores the jab. “However, apparently I can’t unmake the Rift – at least, not without being right up in front of it.”

“It was made with the proto-matter of a universe,” says Vision above them. “It cannot be closed by anything less than the full power of a mature universe in conduit wielded by the full power of a being in understanding of herself.”

Tony soars above and fires twice at something far away. “Which when translated for the rest of the class, means  _She Who Is Worthy_ ?”

“Take your hand off your ego, Tony. Cometh the hour, cometh the woman,” Maria says with a shrug, as though wielding the full power of a mature universe is something she does every day. Then again, given that she ran the Avengers for nearly two years, doesn’t she? She turns back to Steve, meets his eye. “I need the Avengers to keep the Infinites away from me in order to make a run at closing the Rift.”

“Not without one of us watching your back.”

He’s a little surprised when she only nods. “I’ll accept Wanda, since she can fly.”

“So were you actually going to share the plan for closing the Rift?” Tony hovers a few feet away. “Or were you going to make it up as you went? Oh, and I think your Valkryies want some support. Coming, ladies!”

“I have an idea or two,” is her response as she blinks and the wings form up behind her again, assembling out of nothingness in a rustling flutter of magnificence. “You work with the _Brisingr_ to worry the Infinites, Stark. Let me worry about the Rift.”

Steve moves before she can launch herself into the sky, then stops himself as she steps back, drawing the _Freyrstav_ away from his reaching hand. It’s an awkward moment, made more so by the others suddenly turning to face the battlefield, organising among themselves who’s going to keep an eye on whom, pointedly ignoring the tableau unfolding in their midst.

“I wasn’t—”

“It burns. I can’t stop it—” She bites off her words as their voices clash, smiles ruefully, and looks him in the eye. “What is it, Rogers?”

So many things to say, and yet movement to the side reveals T’Challa watching them from behind the enigma of the Black Panther’s mask. And yes, Steve always knew he was no fit match for Maria, but a part of him still wishes otherwise, even with the  _Freyrstav_ glowing in her hand, even in the face of everything he doesn’t have to offer her.

So Steve just runs his hand down her arm, a safe touch; warm flesh beneath the weave of her uniform – a part of her in her mind, never mind that the S.H.I.E.L.D she served wasn’t the organisation she thought it was. She’s still a soldier, she still knows her duty, she still serves.

She’s still waiting for him to say something.

“It’s good to have you back, Maria.”

Blinking surprise crosses her face, a kind of astonished gratification, before she manages, “Thank you, Steve.”

“Incoming,” comes the call from above, and a moment later Clint lands in the middle of the group, dropped there by Wanda.

Steve’s only vaguely aware of Barton’s landing. T’Challa is saying something to Maria, about  _honour to serve_ , and she holds up a finger and says something sharp and warning.

“Boys, looks like we’ve got ground incoming,” Natasha says, as the next wave of Infinites crests the ridge. “Let’s not make the ladies do all the hard work, now?”

Maria crouches, and her eyes meets Steve’s with a smile as she leaps skyward, her wings buffeting up clouds of dust before Wanda gives her a telekinetic ‘lift’.

“You okay?” Bucky asks as Sam gets airborne with another telekinetic ‘lift’ from Wanda.

“Yes,” Steve says, because he can hardly say ‘no’, can he?

Then they’re moving to engage the next wave of Infinites, and the world narrows down to battle before him and battle above.

Steve is dimly aware of glowing light and scarlet flashes near the Rift, the flutter of wings as the Valkyries join the fray, as Sam fights the Infinites with their own weapons, while Vision blasts them with his mind. Stark’s suit hums beneath the crackle and roll of Thor’s lightning and thunder, beneath the solid clang of the shield against the Infinites Steve fights.

They keep coming. And Steve’s all and everything is stretched to the limit in this battlefield, his senses extended, his thoughts taut. He can’t think – can only react with his fists and his shield, with the instinctive knowledge that Bucky is at his right hand and Natasha is at his left, and T’Challa and Clint are fighting behind him, while above, Wanda defends Maria in the air on their way to the Rift—

“I’m sorry,” he hears Maria say, as though from somewhere far-distant. “But this only requires one sacrifice.”

Wanda’s gasps echoes through the comms.

Steve turns, already knowing what he’ll see. Wanda lies on the ground before the rift. The scarlet of her telekinesis kept her from damaging injury, but leaves her unable to stop the lone woman with wings plunging through the Rift the wrong way. in her hands, the  _Freyrstav_ dulls everything around it simply by  _being_ .

“Maria,” he manages, but nothing more as she seems to land in the middle of the Rift, the pointy end of the Freyrstav slamming into the surface—

There’s a buzz, sharp and absolute, the world flashing into afterimages as Rift swallows her up with a snap, closing about her like a trap sprung. This is no slow collapse like the Chitauri, but a swift and absolute shut down, like a popped balloon.

The Rift seals and vanishes, like it never existed, like it was never there.

And a moment later, with a blip that resonates in the silence after the Rift’s close, the  _Freyrstav_ pops out of thin air and falls to the ground.

An indrawn breath runs through the comms, sharp shock echoing through the Avengers as their eyes see but their minds can’t comprehend. Then Steve hears T’Challa’s voice, sonorous and vibrant across the comms in a clarion call: “ _Avengers, Assemble_ !” And the thought strikes him in the heart –  _it was an honour to serve with you_ – T’Challa  _knew_ what Maria intended, saw it even then.

But there’s no time for pain, no time for anger. There’s only the fight, only the death of the Infinites left on this side of the Rift, only the battle that seems endless, although it can’t last more than another ten minutes of death and destruction and an aching grief.

When it’s over, Steve stands on the ridge to observe the battlefield and wait for the last of the reports to trickle in.

The discarded  _Freyrstav_ lies beside him, untouched. His fingers itch to pick it up – the last thing she held – but he knows better. Mjolnir wouldn’t move for him – and now, he wonders that nobody offered Maria the chance to try that night after Natasha refused – and he can still hear her saying,  _It burns. I can’t stop it._

He sent Bucky and Natasha away so he wouldn’t have to deal with their sympathy, and snarked at Stark until Vision dragged Stark away to speak with Rhodey and Colonel Danvers in air support.

Thor lands a few yards away, one of the winged women dropping to the ground behind him, her wings folding up neatly against her back.

“She fought for more than just Earth, Steve.”

“I know.” He holds out a hand for Thor to grip. “We all did.” Yet it was Maria who paid the ultimate price. He doesn’t want to talk about it now. “Your friend?”

“Steve, this is Brunnhilde, the leader of the _Brisingr_. Leader Brunnhilde, Captain Steve Rogers of Earth.”

“Captain Rogers.” The woman is as tall as Steve, her long dark hair in a multitude of braids that seem to add a sheen to her tawny skin, but her stride is brisk – unmistakeably that of a soldier trained. Her wings move gently behind her as she speaks, the bronze-tipped feathers a rustling counterpoint to the throaty timbre of her voice. “The Lady Maria spoke well of you.”

“I’m glad to have— I’m glad.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “The Avengers thank the _Brisingr_ for their assistance, Leader Brunnhilde.”

“More than Earth was at stake, Captain Rogers. The Lady Maria recognised that – it is why the _Freyrstav_ accepted her touch. The bearer is always a woman in full years, in knowledge of her faults and failings and not merely her strengths and skills.”

And that’s Maria to the core.  _Was_ Maria. He can’t let himself think— 

“What happens to that now?” He looks to Thor. “Can you pick it up?”

“I may touch the _Freyrstav_ , but only with difficulty.”

“The voice that speaks first of power is less trustworthy than the voice that speaks first of sacrifice,” says Brunnhilde with some asperity. “My Lord Thor knows this too well.”

Thor gives Brunnhilde a sharp look, but the smile the tenders him is demure as pie. Steve is suddenly reminded of Natasha’s smirk as she needles him, and manages to hide a grin.

“However,” Brunnhilde says, her wings suddenly spreading wide, “It may be that it will not be needful to find someone to take up the _Freyrstav_ after all...”

The universe  _flexes_ . That’s the best word Steve has for the way reality seems to swirl about the  _Freyrstav_ , shoving a dark-haired figure out from the next universe over.

Maria stumbles, her hands going around the staff, and it seems to stabilise her, however temporarily. Steve has an arm around her back – no wings anymore – before he thinks about it, but she shoves weakly at him with one hand. He lets her go, although when she turns away and falls to her knees, retching, he goes down beside her, pulling off his gloves and allowing himself the indulgence of his fingers against her skin.

Someone nudges his shoulder – Brunnhilde offering him a silvery flask. He sniffs cautiously at it and smells alcohol and apples.

“Restorative,” says the _Brisingr_ leader, smiling. “Not intoxicant.”

Maria takes a swig when offered, and nearly chokes. “Oh, God!” But she manages to swallow, and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, breathing hard.

“Better?” Steve asks, not taking his eyes off her, not taking back his hand. His palm skims up, brushing at the edges of her hair, and she tenses, a warning look in her eyes. “I like the hair,” he says, knowing it sounds defensive, not really caring.

“So,” says Barton, coming up and planting his feet. “Guess you worked out the _rebirth_ part just in time, then?”

“Apparently.” She starts to her feet, wobbles, then shoves at Steve when he slips an arm around her waist. “Rogers.”

“Let me help.”

Maria looks at him with clear eyes that see too much. “Not like this,” she says, very quietly.

Steve releases her with an aching sense of loss. He never had her in the first place – and he never will. Sharon had less to lose and more flexibility, and she still walked away. Maria wouldn’t have him if he offered.

Steve watches her go to Brunnhilde, saying something he can’t hear. The leader of the  _Brisingr_ nods and salutes Maria – at least, that’s probably what the fist to forehead and heart is. He makes himself put it away, ignoring the sharp looks from the other Avengers – the ones who know him and Maria, the ones who might interfere. When all’s said and done, there’s a retreat to be organised, wounded to see to, and a battlefield to begin clearing up.

At least there are no civilian casualties this time – they made sure that the area was evacuated when it became clear that the Infinites were setting up the Rift.

He deals with the Avengers, because he’s their leader. He deals with Rhodey and Colonel Danvers, because he knows the military. And he watches Maria out of the corner of his eye, because he can’t not.

“Is she going back to Asgard?” Natasha asks, looking over to where Maria is in discussion with Thor and Vision – the only other two who have handled Asgardian treasure. So far, she’s the only one who dared to bring up the possibility.

“You could ask her yourself.”

“Yeah, I could. But I think you’d rather know from her than from me.”

As usual, she’s right.

So Steve sends Natasha back to the Quinjet that’s ferrying the last of them back to the Avengers Facility, and starts towards the trio, only to pause as Thor lifts his Hammer. The Rainbow Bridge etches the ground with fire, leaving only the burned grass to mark their going, but—does Maria turn her head to look at him as the Rainbow Bridge takes her?

Does it matter? Maria’s gone.

There’s a footstep behind. “They needed to deal with the situation in Asgard,” Wanda says, not without some sympathy. “There was urgency.”

Steve takes a deep breath. It’s better this way. Anything between them could only ever be a casualty of the events and people that need them more. Still, he would have liked a few moments of privacy – the courtesy of being told where she was going.

A courtesy she doesn’t owe him and never has.

It still hurts.

“All right. Let’s go home.”

* * *

The Facility is dark and quiet, and it suits Steve’s mood to sit in the lounge and stare out into the night.

Sam and Bucky finally left him alone, Natasha and Wanda having realised long before that he’d be useless as company until he ‘got his mood out’ as Natasha put it.

It’s been a week. A week of dealing with the United Nations who were grudgingly pleased to hear that Earth wasn’t about to become the staging-ground for a megalomaniac with a desire to own universes, with General Ross who was distinctly displeased to discover that the weapon which had been used to close the Rift was no longer available to them, with Nick Fury who took one look at Steve and said, “ _You’re younger, faster, stronger. You should be able to at least keep up with her, for God’s sake._ ”

Maybe that’s why she never tells him where she’s going.

Or maybe, Steve thinks as he sips from his glass of whiskey, he just doesn’t matter to her.

It’ll stop hurting someday, he thinks. Just not today.

Vision came back yesterday. Maria didn’t.

There were no messages, no ‘I’ll be back soon’, no communication that wasn’t generically relayed through Vision.

“ _It has been aeons since there was an active Bearer of the Freyrstav. And to be wielded in action by a mortal – the Elders of the Nine Realms are concerned what these changes portend.”_

“ _So Maria’s still mortal, then?” Sam asked. “You’d kinda figure that being Queen of the Universe came with an immortality clause.”_

“ _Except the Commander would not accept immortality.” Wanda remarks, smiling. “She would throw it back in their face and walk away.”_

“ _Unless it meant saving the world.”_

“ _Does she have to marry Thor?” It was, of course, Tony who tossed it out there. Twisting the knife, or just being Stark? Was there a difference? “I’m just saying, King of the Asgard, Queen of the Universe...”_

_Steve remembered nausea from the days before the serum; from the day he discovered what Bucky had become. He didn’t remember it twisting through him like this, so vicious he could barely breathe for hurting._

“ _Stark.”_

_Tony threw his hands wide. “All options, Bird Boy. And this is what happens high-up. Small, insignificant things like personal emotions have to be put aside for the greater good.”_

“ _Is this the definition of irony?” Bucky asked, flexing his left arm with studied nonchalance. “Or am I mishearing?”_

“ _So Maria isn’t coming back yet.” Steve forced his voice to casual.“She’s still sorting things out in Asgard.”_

“ _That is the gist of it.” Vision spread his hands wide in a very human gesture. “I do not know the details – I was permitted to assist, but not included in the discussions.”_

“ _At least we know that someone from Earth has a voice in Asgardian affairs, now,” Clint says. “That’s a good thing, right?”_

_It wasn’t until afterwards that Natasha caught up with him on his way down to the gym. “Steve. You’re not going to do anything stupid now, like...I don’t know...sign the Accords?” The peep of her smile made it almost a joke – except that the aftermath of Tony’s attempt to assauge his guilt and get Pepper back had nearly cost Earth the Avengers._

“ _I’m not Tony.” He doesn’t mean to sound so clipped, but all he can think is that at least Pepper had loved Stark, however bad things had turned at the end. “I’ll be okay, Natasha.”_

“ _That’s the problem, Steve. You always are.”_

Somehow he doubts sitting alone in the dark, drinking, constitutes ‘okay’ by most people’s standards. But it’s kind of peaceful, and a soldier down to the DNA level doesn’t get much of that.

Light spills through the room, a coruscating, multi-hued column that cuts through the darkness outside with the brightness of day. The ice cubes in the glass tremble as Steve puts it down on the coffee table and stands as the balcony door slides open.

“Should I ask who died?”

“You were the only one this time.” He watches as she steps inside and slides the door shut. Not the S.H.I.E.L.D uniform anymore, but civvies: jeans and a shirt and a hoodie sweater, although the knee-high boots remain. Apparently the universe has now been introduced to GAP. “How was Asgard?”

“Amazing. Busy. Chaotic.” Maria comes around the coffee table, drops into the sofa and leans back in an abject slouch. “Oh, God, something that I don’t have to recline on.”

Steve sits down beside her – not too close – and finds his hands are still shaking. He shuts them into fists before she can see, but her hand reaches out and closes over the near hand, slim cold fingers atop his knuckles. “Steve?”

_I’ll be okay._

_That’s the problem, Steve. You always are._

Not this time, perhaps. He turns his hand so his fingers lace into hers. “You came back.”

“That wasn’t in question. Steve—”

“I know.” He tugs her so she sits forward, then transfers her hand to his far hand, so he can tuck her under his arm, so he can lean into her. It’s selfish – he can feel the tension in her as he holds her, she doesn’t want this. And that’s okay. He just needs... “Just for a moment, Maria. I won’t ask again.”

She shivers, but doesn’t push him away, doesn’t say anything for a few long moments. Then she relaxes into him, the slightest lean into his side. “You never asked before, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to create a situation where you might choose the job over me.”

“Newsflash: I’ll always choose the job over you.”

“I know.”

“So don’t make me choose.”

With the warmth of her against his side, the statement takes a moment to filter through his brain. Steve lifts his forehead from her temple and stares at her. There’s a drumming in his ears. “What?”

Maria watches him back, her eyes a depthless midnight in the shadows, her expression wary of his scrutiny. “Don’t make me choose between you and the job.”

“You’d choose me?”

“Not over the job.”

He closes his fingers tighter over hers. “I’ll take that.” A tug pulls her back up against him, and this time he turns his face into the silk of her hair and breathes deep, then exhales when Maria rests their clasped hands on his thigh and leans into him. “I didn’t know if you’d come back.”

“There were things that needed doing in Asgard. There still are. Apparently Bearer of the _Freyrstav_ has responsibilities that are a bit more arduous than overseeing the _prima noctae_.”

Steve doesn’t get the reference. Then he does, and— “You have to—?”

“Oh, God, no. It’s something Tony said—You wouldn’t remember.”

“Actually, I do.” He’d just passed it off as Shit Tony Said. “Are there...consorts? For the Queen of the Universe?”

Maria gives him a look that’s plain as day, even in the shadows and darkness. “Don’t even start with that. I’m not Queen of the anything.”

“Queen of my heart?”

“That,” she says after a still and startled moment of the thickest silence Steve has sat through, “is the worst piece of maudlin drivel I’ve ever heard out of your mouth, Steve.”

He finds himself grinning in spite of her scathing tone. “True, though.” He brushes a kiss behind her ear and feels her shiver. “God, Maria.”

“You’re scaring me, Steve.”

“It’s kind of mutual.” He brushes his lips across the top of her cheekbone, and smiles as she leans into the caress. “Just so you know.”

“I know.”

Steve thinks he should pick her up and take her to bed, thinks about setting his skin against hers, about making this irrevocable and unforgettable and unignorable.

But there’s time for that. Time for peace in its time. Time to go over what this means, what she means to him, what he means to her, what’s going to happen with the Avengers and Asgard and the  _Freyrstav_ and the universe. 

Later.

Right now, it suits his mood and hers to sit in the dark lounge, holding each other in the silence.

They stay there, leaning comfortably, until the moon sets.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I cribbed the _Freyrstav_ and the _Brisingr_ and this iteration of the Infinity War for this story - they're not Marvel comics creations and I sincerely doubt they'd make them movie creations - and if they did, there would be near universal outrage that Maria might be worthy to wield the _Freyrstav_.
> 
> I didn't make up Brunnhilde|Valkyrie, although she originally had a different name. I just made her the leader of the _Brisingr_ after the confirmation that Tessa Thompson will be playing her in the upcoming Thor movie.
> 
> The story of exactly what Maria is doing in Asgard is a story all its own, which involves Sif and the Warriors Three, Brunnhilde, the _Brisingr_ , and deposing Loki from the throne of Asgard. It is unlikely to end up being written


End file.
